I have no idea what I smell like anymore, and it’s got nothing to do with my nose getting sheared off some time back.
No, the problem is that my various powders, gels, simonizers and other assorted “product” are no longer firmly rooted in the tangible, or indeed representative of anything more than the vaguest of concepts.
My roommate, for example, smells like Swiss vanilla. I know this, because she uses a shower gel that says right on it: “Swiss Vanilla.” It’s not clear what makes it Swiss, but vanilla is nonetheless a very real thing that one can smell like.
I, on the other hand, smell like an “Arctic Blast.”
That is not a thing. You cannot grasp and hold a blast the way you can a vanilla bean. I might as well be washing with “Slipstream” or “Philosophy" before getting dressed in clothes that stink of "Sunlight."
And even if it were a thing, I’d never know if I was being lied to about its scent. I don’t live anywhere near the arctic, so when am I ever going to be able to go experience an actual arctic blast?
Worse yet, Axe says my armpits are supposed to smell like a “Tsunami,” but I can’t detect even a hint of bloated bodies or malaria. (What, too soon?)
Most of these products nowadays, with names like “Midnight Cool” and “Siberian Snowstorm,” seem to be marketed to those who like violently cold things; things that would turn your fingers into blackened stumps if you ever actually encountered them. Even Gatorade’s gotten into the game, with flavors like “Frost” and “Ice Punch.”
Maybe there’s a strong wendigo demographic everyone's trying to capture before global warming catches up to us. Who knows? I just wish they'd make the effort to coordinate these things. I mean, my "Lifeless Tundra" gum tastes nothing like my foot powder of the same name smells.
And just for the record, Coors, "cold" is not a flavor. So, sorry, you cannot have the world's "coldest-tasting beer" until you invent a new flavor and call it "cold," but I'd really rather you just go back to peddling your swill on that side of the Rockies. I prefer my beer to be the "longest-sounding," thanks. (While I'm at it, don't think I haven't been lining you up in my sights, Budweiser, with your little "drinkability" thing.)
But riddle me this, Gatorade: Why the hell would I ever want to drink something called “Riptide Rush?” You might as well just call it “Seaweed and Jellyfish.” Maybe they’re saving that one for the ever-growing Chinese market, though.